B's story
by ArabellaTurner
Summary: B tells the story of his life and the motivation behind the LABB murder case. A/B and slight B/Misora. Rated M due to the inherently violent themes of Another Note.
1. Prologue

**Author's note: This is my first fanfiction. I was talking to a friend about BB and our views of him were different enough that I decided to write down what I thought and it just sort of turned into this.** **Anyways, I hope you enjoy my story and maybe see BB from a new light!**

B sat alone in the dark room. It was not that he particularly enjoyed the solitude, but rather that he had no one else he could talk to. He supposed he could try to leave, but what was the point? There was nothing left for him anyways.

 _As B wallowed in his solitude, he heard footsteps approaching. A few moments later, B saw another man enter the room. The man's face was obscured by the dark and what appeared to be a cloak. The man stopped by the doorway. He didn't say anything, just stood there, waiting. B sighed. It was clear why the man was there. Straitening up, B took a deep breath and began to speak._

I assume you're here because you heard about the LABB murder case? You learned of the sick twisted deeds I committed and now you are curious. Why would I do something like that? How did I come up with such a convoluted plan? How did it all work with my eyes? Was that really jam? Well, you came all this way, so I might as well give you answers.

First of all, yes, of course it was jam. Do you honestly believe that I would be dumb enough to be eating something like that in front of a detective? Second of all, gross. Listen, even I draw the line somewhere. My actions were a game between L and I. It wasn't some sick wish fulfillment and it wasn't some fever-dream killing spree. My actions were cold, calculated, and months in the planning.


	2. Chapter 1

Now, before I tell you the story of my murders, and I promise I will tell you, let me tell you a little bit about my past. As you may have already guessed, as a child I was a freak. I didn't understand why other people seemed creeped out when I called them by their names or why they reacted the way they did when I mentioned their death dates. Couldn't everyone else see it too? I learned very much the hard way that this was not the case.

Unaware that I was doing something wrong, when became old enough to understand what the numbers meant, I began to mention them to people. Of course no one believed me. One day, however, my family was meeting up with some friends when I noticed a man with only three more weeks to live. Upon seeing him, I sadly announced how sad it was that he would die soon. My family was livid. I was told in very explicit terms to knock off this morbid obsession with death and behave myself. And I tried, I really did, but when the man died three weeks later after being hit by a car, any hope I could have ever had for a normal life was gone forever.

It finally occurred to my parents that maybe the reason why I kept talking about people's deaths was because I could somehow predict them. Even if they didn't want to believe it, my parents couldn't quite convince themselves that it wasn't true. And that's where everything fell apart. When I had told my parents their death dates, these dates weren't all that far off into the future. Both of them were doomed to die young. Even if they claimed that I had no idea what I was talking about, the possibility of early deaths scared them.

My house grew into a violent and toxic place to live. Items were thrown, blows were exchanged, and fighting became an everyday occurrence. Eventually my mother couldn't take it anymore. She packed her bags and left. She didn't make it far though. Just a few hours into her journey, the breaks on her train failed. There were no survivors. When the news reached home, I didn't even try to talk to my father. I simply ran. I was 6 years old at that time.

Once I had escaped from home, I tried to make sense of my ability. By this point I knew that no one else could see the names or numbers. I also knew that warning someone did not seem to help prevent it. In fact, both people who I told had died. Was it possible that their deaths occurred because I told them? After all, had I never said anything, the fighting and worrying never would have happened, and if they never happened, she never would have been on that train.

I spent the next couple of years trying to understand my curse. I scouted people out who were destined to die soon and interacted with them in different ways. I quickly realized that the deaths would occur whether or not I told the other person. Much to my dismay, I learned that the deaths would happen no matter what I did to help the person. It truly seemed to me that it was not possible for me to save someone once I had seen their death date.

Yet there was one theory that I was never able to test. A small part of me always wondered, what if by simply looking at this person I am causing their date to change? Is it possible that simply by meeting me, a person's entire future could be altered? It seemed as arrogant thought. Who was I that I could affect someone's life so much simply by looking at them. But the thought never went away. The truth is that a small part of me still wonders that today. Would they all still be alive today if I had never met them? I don't think I will ever truly know the answer.

It was during one of my experiments that Watari found me. Apparently when a child gets himself involved in enough strange death cases, he tends to get noticed. Especially when he is homeless and living on his own. Watari offered me a safe place to live and a chance to make something of my life. How could I possibly have known what would go wrong?


	3. Chapter 2

Wammy's House is not what you would call a traditional orphanage. It wasn't one of those places in movies where the kids are abused and forced to clean or anything, yet it wasn't a place full of joy and laughter. There was a tension there, like everyone was perpetually holding their breath. The only thing that ever seemed to break that tension was A.

A was the next in line to be L's successor, and I had never seen anyone more brilliant. Despite being the same age as me, it was clear that A was far more intelligent. He easily breezed through work I struggled with. A was kind too. When he smiled it was like the sunshine. He brought light with him everywhere he went. His presence was enough to make me feel better whenever I was stressed, and if I closed my eyes and just let myself forget for a minute, I could actually picture us becoming the best of friends. There was just one problem. Despite his brilliance, A was never going to become L's successor. He was never going to solve any crimes, save any lives, or share his light with the world. You see, the problem was that A would only live to be 15.

Now go ahead and call me selfish. I can't argue with you there. If I had been a better, kinder person, perhaps things would have turned out differently. Perhaps I would have turned out differently. But I wasn't kind. I saw A's future and I ran away from it. Instead of trying to make the last few years of A's life happy, I tried my best to keep him away from me. I didn't want to deal with the pain of losing someone I cared about again, so I simply refused to care. I rejected any kindness A showed me and refused to ever work with him. Everything was a competition between us with him an unwilling participant.

Over the next few years I watched as A's smiles faded. As the pressure on us continued to mount, A desperately reached out to me, begging for a friend. Each time I turned away. As the countdown for A's life dropped from years to weeks and from weeks to days, I grew harsher and harsher with him. I didn't want any part in the sad tale that was his life and I refused to be hurt by his death. Never once during that time did I stop and think about what I was doing to him.

I was not until I saw him hanging there, a crumpled note on the ground below him, that I finally realized what his cause of death was. Everyone blamed it on the pressure and stress. They called him a failed experiment. Everyone acted like it was somehow A's fault he had died. But I knew it wasn't. A was fated to die that day, but there was nothing saying he had to die that way. There was no reason he had to die alone and broken like that. Although it had not been intentional, once again I had killed someone that I cared about. At this point, I was a serial killer.


	4. Chapter 3

Now that A was dead, I was supposed to take his place like he had never been there. Of course, no one actually had any faith that I could do it. There was a new generation of successors being trained. After all, if A couldn't do it, then how could I? I was determined to prove them wrong.

Yet this was much easier said than done. Since no one had any faith in me anymore, it felt more like we were just going through the motions. It was clear that I was never going to be given a chance to prove myself. After years of facing the oppressive pressure of trying to live up to someone, what finally broke me was the realization that the pressure was completely gone. I was just A's backup and now that he was deemed a failure, I was too.

I didn't want things to end this way. After all that had happened, I didn't want to just take it lying down. I had been through too much and had sacrificed too many people to just be tossed aside like this. I desperately struggled to find something that I was better at than L. Some skill I had that he didn't that I could use to prove myself superior. Yet the only thing I seemed to be good for was killing people.

I remember laughing that night for perhaps the first time in years. It was a twisted, broken laugh that frightened even me. I didn't care anymore. I didn't care about anything anymore. I had found a way to prove myself superior.


	5. Chapter 4

I decided that if I was going to play a game with L, I was going to do it in the most sadistic way possible. Every death, every clue, every aspect was going to somehow be used to rub it into L's face. I would make sure that everything I did made him suffer. The same way he had made A suffer.

It was not an easy process planning the murders out. Every detail from the location to the timing had to be planned out well in advance. After all, I could not just find some random person and kill them. Any target I chose had to already be fated to die.

So I sat around parks and cafes, taking note of anyone with BB as their initials until I found 2 people with close enough death dates. The third person was harder to find. As I was starting to run out of time, I found a solution in little Quarter Queen. As long as I was willing to get creative with things, I could claim that "qq" was an upside down and lowercase version of "bb." With the days flying by, it would have to suffice.

The truth is that most of the clues were born that way. I tailored them to my needs, instead of the other way around. For instance, I knew that in the end I was going to die, so I needed a situation where I could be mistaken for the target and where Misora would be elsewhere. The first thing I found was a location where two people with the initials BB lived. From there I built a clue that could point to both of them.

The need to mask the suicide was the reason why I got so creative with the murders. I figured if each murder was different, then I would have more leeway in what I eventually did to myself. The main problem with these creative murders was the torture involved. Believe it or not, the thought of killing people has never appealed to me. The thought of hearing their tortured screams appealed to me even less. Eventually I decided that, even if it created a common thread in all deaths but mine, I would sedate each victim before I killed them. That way at the very least they wouldn't feel any pain before they died.

Go ahead and call me a hypocrite or a liar. I don't mind. I know that after everything I did, I have no right to claim I have a human heart. It's not fair for me to act like I felt any sympathy for my victims or even really viewed them as humans anymore, yet the truth was that the idea of torturing someone was just too much for me.

As twisted as it sounds, apart from the murder part, the game itself was fun to play. Naomi Misora was an excellent intermediary between myself and L. At first I was annoyed that she was there. I knew L would send somebody, yet it still stung a little to think that L still wasn't taking me seriously enough to face me himself. Yet for some reason I couldn't explain she began to grow on me. There was something about the way she talked about the case and something about the way she looked at me that I liked. It was clear that she found me to be a freak, yet there were times when she looked at me with so much kindness in her eyes. It both frightened and comforted me.

However, despite all of the credit I did give her, I never really stopped seeing her as L's puppet and in the end, that was why I failed. I never accounted for her independent action. I didn't realize just how brilliant she truly was, or how kind. It was not until those final moments, when she burst through the door, put out the flames, and arrested me, that I finally realized why I had grown to like her. She reminded me of A.

As Misora stood there next to me waiting for the police and ambulance to come, I felt a sense of relief. It was like that breath I had been holding ever since my days at Wammy's House was finally released. I had planned for my release to be the sweet embrace of death, yet for the first time, I had been unable to see how a death would turn out. Even if I had no power to alter a person's lifespan, Misora did. She was the reason why I was still alive and the reason why I had failed to defeat L.

And she had solved the case when L had not. Somehow, in some twisted way, despite all that had happened, I felt like I had won. Well, I suppose "won" is not the correct word. It's more like I felt that L had lost. The real victor in this battle was the third player I never meant to invite.

After that there really isn't much more to say. I survived the incident and was sent to jail. By this point I was in constant pain. I longed for death, yet I could not kill myself. The cruel irony of my curse had come full circle. The same way I could not prevent the death of a loved one, I could not cause the death of such a pitiful and pathetic creature. So I accepted it. I lived with the pain, the shame, and burden of what I had done and the pain that I had caused.

In all my life there were exactly two people who had looked at me with eyes like that. Even though A was dead and gone, Misora was still alive. Even if I would never see her again, and even if she hated me for the rest of her life, I was glad that she had won. When death finally came to claim me, I was ready. There were so many ghosts that I would need to face in the afterlife, yet I was not afraid. My eyes would no longer matter there. And even if he hated me, I would never have to fear losing him again. As my life slipped away, I remember closing my eyes and seeing his staring back at me.


	6. Epilogue

_B leaned back against the wall, exhausted from his story. It was a difficult one for him to tell. In the dark room, he could barely make out the presence of his visitor. B had initially believed that death would reunite him with the others. Of course it did not work out that way. Those who use a death note cannot go to either heaven or hell. B supposed the same rule must be true for those who used the shinigami eyes. He found it a little unfair since he had no say in the matter, but since he was probably not going to heaven with the others anyways, he supposed it didn't really matter._

 _B's visitor let out a sharp inhale of breath. He had felt confident that he was ready to face B before he had walked into the room, but now, after hearing his story, he wasn't so sure anymore. He wanted to reach out and grab him, to pull B out of this gloomy prison, yet his feet didn't seem to want to move._

 _After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes of silence, the visitor finally spoke. "_ Come", _he said. B didn't need anything more than that. He would recognize that voice anywhere. He leapt to his feat and ran towards the other man. After all, B would do anything A asked of him._


End file.
